Pillar of the Community
by alynwa
Summary: Originally written for the Short Affairs Challenge. The prompt word is "pillar" and the prompt color is "yellow."


"Mr. Solo? Mr. Kuryakin? Welcome to my home. Please come in, sit down and tell me what this is all about." The two agents followed the man into his living room and sat. The house they were in was part of a large estate in North Carolina and belonged to their host, George Tidwell Bailey. The Baileys were a well-known, wealthy family whose roots ran deep in this part of the state and whose members, including George, sat in positions of power at all levels of state and local politics. George was currently serving his third term in the state senate. "My assistant told me that you wouldn't tell her why you needed to see me so urgently. I'm not in the habit of taking meetings with anyone when I don't know what is on the agenda. However, I must admit that I am very curious as to why UNCLE agents want to see me."

"Oh, so you've heard of UNCLE?"

"Yes, Mr. Solo. I have a cousin who works in one of your California offices." He looked at the clock on the fireplace mantel. "As I said, I'm curious, but I'm also busy. State your business, please." He looked at Mr. Kuryakin. "I have to be in Raleigh by three."

"It has come to our attention that you have recently started a romantic liaison with a woman who is not your wife."

Bailey bolted to his feet. "How _dare_ you come into my home and make such an accusation! You've got a hell of a nerve! Get out of here!"

Before Illya could reply, Napoleon put a hand on his arm to still him. "Spare us the 'I'm a pillar of my community' speech and listen," he said in pleasant conversational tone, "The woman you've taken up with is a known THRUSH agent named Angelique DeChien. She does nothing unless it furthers her plans, whatever they happen to be. If she hasn't asked you to do something for her, she will soon. You need to tell her you've decided to remain faithful to your wife and stop seeing her."

George pulled himself up to his full height and blustered, "Does it occur to either one of you that Angelique wants me for _me_?"

Illya took in the man from the top of his balding head to the bulge of his stomach to his unpolished shoes. He pulled from his inside jacket pocket a black and white headshot of Angelique and shoved it under the man's nose. "Look at her," he snarled and then he pointed at the mirror over the fireplace. "And look at _you._ She wants something from you and you know it. You think she wants jewels and furs and perhaps she does, but she will want something that only a state senator can give her and we cannot take that chance."

The man visibly deflated as he said, "If what you say is true, she may not take my breaking it off well. Could my family or I be in danger?"

Napoleon answered, "UNCLE will assign security to you and your family until we are certain there is no threat against your family. In the meantime, I suggest very strongly that you call her. Expect a security detail this evening. And, Mr. Bailey?"

"What?"

"They _will_ know if that call was made. Goodbye."

Several hours later, Napoleon and Illya were sitting in their motel having dinner. The security team had arrived and Mr. Bailey was eager to see them. Apparently, Angelique was not happy that he ended their affair. The chirping of the CEA's communicator caused him to quickly swallow and answer. "Solo here."

"It's Kelly, Napoleon. I just took a message for you from a woman calling herself Sylvia Broadchurch. She said it's important you speak with her as soon as possible. Here's her number."

"Thanks, Kelly, I owe you lunch."

"I'm counting on it. Bye."

He was smiling slightly as he disassembled his device. He looked up to see Illya glowering at him even as he was taking a piece of Napoleon's steak off his plate. "Do you ever turn it off?"

"Why should I?" he retorted as he winked and reached for the telephone. "Let's see what Angelique wants, shall we?" He dialed the number Kelly had given him and it was picked up on the third ring. _"Mlle Broadchurch, est que vous?"_

Angelique's angry voice emerged from the phone. "Yes, Napoleon, it is I and I am, how you say, _really pissed off_ right now! I am not happy that you destroyed my romance."

"You don't say. Let me cheer you up: Illya told Mr. Bailey that you are too pretty for him and _I_ want to compliment you on your new shade of blonde; that shade of yellow is very flattering on you."

"Jealousy is not a good look on you, _Cherie._ I would have thought a worldly man like you could stand a little competition."

"Let's just say I prefer your lovers to be less… _innocent_."

"Be that as it may, I do not appreciate your getting in the way of my…love life. You and I are going to have to discuss this, Napoleon."

The CEA let a little of his dangerous edge creep into his voice. "I'm ready whenever you are, Angelique. Now, I must go; my partner is steadily devouring my dinner. Goodbye." He dropped the phone loudly into its cradle and looked down at his now mostly empty dinner plate. "And what am I supposed to eat?"

Illya filched another fry. "There is enough for you. I think you may have finally pushed Angelique too far."

"Who cares?"

"You should, moy droog. I do not trust her. She _will_ try to kill you."

"'Try' being the operative word. I'm not worried. Besides, I have something she'll never have."

"Which is?"

"You, moy brat. I have you. And I know that if Angelique were to get lucky one day and kill me, you would not rest until you returned the favor. _No one_ cares if Angelique lives or dies."

"That is true."

"And I'll tell you something else," Napoleon said as he picked up the phone, "I'm ordering another dinner because you ate mine and you're paying for it."

"That is a good idea; I am still hungry."


End file.
